Crazy Little Thing
by Marauder-In-Disguise
Summary: 'She loved him… just a little bit.'


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**Disclaimer – If I owned it, I'd already know what happens in season seven…as it is, I'm on the edge of my seat with everyone else!**

She only really began to think about it after the whole team came to see her play. They'd gone to a bar afterwards and Hotch, in a rare downtime mood, had offered to buy a round. Morgan went with him to help and Rossi had slipped into his seat besides Garcia.

"That was a great job you did, kitten."

"Thank you," she flushed, "I was so mad at Hotch for telling you all. I guess it was all for nothing."

"Sweetheart, that whole place knew you were mad at him. You're the only person in the entire world that can talk to him like that and get away with it!"

Garcia had no chance to reply because the drinks arrived and Morgan turfed Rossi out of his seat, declaring that he wanted to sit next to the star, but she took the time to have a few curious glances at Hotch. The more she thought about it, she more she realised Rossi was right; no one else talked to Hotch like she did. She'd even yelled at him a couple of times over the years and every time he had acted like it was his fault. How much did he let her get away with? Driving home in Esther later that night, she began to list all the things she'd done that he had overlooked; the little blips in the system that stopped him and Emily transferring, the fact that Kevin was always caught visiting during working hours, the 'thing' with the tablets, some of her more underhand research methods…There was a lot, when she thought about it, and it wouldn't be half as strange coming from someone who wasn't Aaron Hotchner. Yes – it was weird, and she suddenly wasn't sure if she should be flattered or a little creeped out.

She went to bed that night chuckling to herself.

_**-CRAZYLITTLETHING-**_

It wasn't until a few days later, crammed into her office with nothing much to do for a few blessed minutes, that a spin on her chair provided all the answers just like it normally did. She _was_ flattered, and it was for a very simple reason.

She loved him… just a little bit.

She already knew, of course, that she loved him in much the same way she loved the others, but this was different. This was like…a crush. Not like a throw-yourself-at-his feet type of crush, but just a little one, kind of like the crushes she remembered having on Mr Rochester and Steve McQueen when she was in high school. The feeling she sometimes got in her stomach when Hotch was around was exactly the same as then – it had just taken a long time to identify it. With that revelation, much of her and Hotch's relationship made more sense; how hard she would try to make him smile and how hard she had to work to avoid terms of endearment when they were just ready to roll off her tongue.

She remembered so clearly her interview with him – how he looked so much like a fed that her parents were probably cursing her for daring to note that fed or not, he was darned good looking. He'd been so kind to her, treating her like a human rather than a pain in the ass like the rest of the FBI did and he'd passed the pink stationary test, not even blinking when he looked down to read from it. Yes, it had probably started from that very first meeting, and as she had been privy to Hotch revealing himself to be the Shakespearean hero that he was – delicious flaws and all – it had just been bolstered by a healthy dose of respect. Hotch wasn't her friend, she knew; in fact, of all the team he was the one that most definitely wasn't – but oddly enough she always felt that he understood her the most. Nobody had ever come out with things that made her want to cry more than Hotch did; the time he told her that he wouldn't want her to change who she was stuck out as particularly memorable, perhaps even more than the first time Derek had told her that he loved her. Hotch just had a knack of getting under her skin and saying all the right things, and the funniest thing was he didn't even know he was doing it.

A knock on the door interrupted her train of thought and she gave up on the spinning. Only Reid understood the spinning and it probably wasn't him.

"Speak and be heard, mere mortal!"

"Garcia, I need you to take a look at these files for me," Hotch said, striding across the floor, strictly business like. So why the hell was she blushing all of a sudden? _Stupid Rossi and his stupid big mouth…_

"No problem, my captain," she smiled, "You want me to assign liaisons?"

"Yes, please," he nodded, his eyebrow raised slightly, "Garcia, are you alright?"

"Yes sir!" she said, her false cheer grating on her own ears, "It's just a little warm in here."

"Well get some air before you start," he half smiled, "Morgan will have something to say if I let you pass out on the job. Oh, and this is for you."

The mug of coffee he was holding that she had presumed was for him was placed on her 'My Little Pony' coaster and then he was gone, leaving behind a rather flustered technical analyst.

"Damn you David Rossi," she growled, gazing at the steaming mug and trying not to be too pleased that Hotch remembered which carefully positioned coaster she used when she was working with paper files as opposed to the computers.

Why did Rossi have to start her down that path? But at least she knew one thing for certain; she'd never be able to jump her boss and feel alright doing it. Nothing much had changed, not really; Kevin was her Disney princess style One True Love, and Derek would always be the hottest guy she never dated, but now there was something to add to her private mental list.

"My name is Penelope Garcia and I'm a teeny tiny little bit in love with Aaron Hotchner," she mumbled, giggling heartily to herself, "I guess weirder things have happened. Weirder, more wrong things."

And almost her last thought on the matter, before also filing it away under 'funny little things to laugh about with JJ and Emily the next time we have brunch', was to wonder exactly how long David bloody Rossi had known about it.


End file.
